


Moderation

by lyndysambora



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyndysambora/pseuds/lyndysambora
Summary: Something I wrote after hearing the song "Moderation" by Florence + The Machine.
Kudos: 11





	Moderation

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote after hearing the song "Moderation" by Florence + The Machine.

Izzy was cool. Everybody knew it.

But not just like rockstar cool-- high life, fucking all the chicks, everybody knows your name kinda cool.

Izzy was Charlie Parker cool. Fucking aloof-yet-tortured genius kinda cool. The kind of utter lack of give-a-shit that only a drug that provides euphoria and depression at the same time can provide. 

Izzy could noodle out killer riffs in his sleep, rattle off the tightest lyrics without trying. He could also have a deep, intelligent conversation that nourished Axl's soul, and then tell anybody who would listen what a pest Axl fucking Rose was, how he could never quite shake the guy, how he’d followed Izzy to California and stayed (eye roll).

_Cool._

And it wasn’t fucking fair because it wasn’t real. Axl had known Izzy since god was a child, and the real Izzy _cared_ about shit. He had a favorite color (not black), and he liked strawberry Quik. He thought trees had feelings. And the first time he had seen a naked woman in a pilfered skin magazine, Izzy had been confused by the existence of nipples (very unlike Barbie dolls). And so they had, together, discovered the joys of using the library to research everything from the female anatomy to obscure sex practices. 

Once upon a time, it was okay for them to be friends. Not just friends, but _good_ friends, maybe even best friends, so long as nobody got sentimental about it. 

And now.

Now it just wasn’t cool for Axl to adore Izzy the way he did. He had to admire Izzy from an emotional distance, like some fucking espresso-drinking beatnik in a black sweater. And it just wasn’t Axl’s style. 

It wasn’t fucking Izzy’s style, either. But heroin was like that, wasn’t it?

And so Axl did the things Izzy hated. Pissed-Off Izzy was better than _Cool_ Izzy any day of the week, and Axl had no problem evoking Pissed-Off Izzy. The man was way past the point in his addiction where it could blunt his annoyance with Axl; he’d have to kill himself with it. 

In the mean time, being pissed off was something. And something was better than nothing. Always. 

Izzy wanted Axl to love him in _moderation_. Axl didn’t know the meaning of the word.

**END**


End file.
